


A Late Night's Drink

by Steefwaterbutter



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Drunken Confessions, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Jean being a drunken dork, Male-Female Friendship, Sasha being a dork, fluffy friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-07 07:44:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19080580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steefwaterbutter/pseuds/Steefwaterbutter





	A Late Night's Drink

There was something about watching a pen wheel across the page, leaving a dripping trail of black, a mark where once there had been nothing. It was fascinating to watch the letters bloom, turning her thoughts into concrete images. It--

"N-no! _Please_!"

Sasha jerked, her hand knocking against something cold. Her head whipped around, her breathing so fast she nearly choked.

But the storm had already passed. Everything was perfectly still, blanketed by the sound of deep, even breathing, the sound of sleep.

_Christa,_ Sasha thought. _Another nightmare._

She turned back to the page, illuminated under the candle's warm glow. Then her hand flew over her mouth, stifling her own gasp. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back. She wasn't going to let herself cry in front of everyone, asleep though they were.

The inkwell had tipped onto its side, a dark blot filling the page she had worked so hard on. Hours, days of trying to get the words just right, and it was all gone in an instant. All that remained now was the title: _Lost Memory... a poem by..._

She swallowed, and crumpled the paper in her hand. She stuffed it into a bag of dirty clothes before grabbing a cloth and mopping up the extra ink. Sasha gritted her teeth, scrubbing harder, trying to get the black out before it stained the wood. Captain Levi would throw a fit if he found ink splatters on the desk, and the other girls would surely pester her with questions she didn't want to answer.

Once that was done, Sasha cupped her hand around the candle and blew it out before crawling into bed. Her eyes burned with fatigue, and her chest felt heavy. All that work for nothing. It was all gone and she'd never get it back and... it wouldn't be the same!

As her eyes slid shut, the soft sound of her mother's voice drifted across her mind.

_Tomorrow is a new day._

Sasha let out a long sigh. The mattress was soft beneath her aching body, the sheets a pleasant weight against her skin. Exhaustion poured over her body, pushing her deeper into soft darkness. The sound of the rain soothed her ears and her heart. It was that sort of rainfall that just felt like the earth was drinking it all in.

Just then Sasha felt a stirring in her body. Something that could not quite be ignored.

Sasha buried her head under her pillow and all but screamed into the mattress.

_Curse Captain Levi and his delicious tea. I knew I should have stopped at the fifth cup._

_o_

The door squealed as Sasha emerged from the outhouse, back into the soggy courtyard. She winced at the sound, but at least there was no one else around to complain about it as well.

She took a deep breath and took off. Black tidal waves of mud rose up at each step, splattering the old pants she'd pulled on over her nightdress. Within seconds she was soaked through and beginning to shiver. The wind beat at her from every side, and the rain was like hundreds of pine needles against her skin.

Lanterns hung under the eaves of buildings provided weak light, not nearly enough to see. It was easy to imagine that each puddle was a bottomless pool, and that at any second she might step into one and drown.

She could be smothered in blankets right now, listening to the rain instead of being soaked in it. She could be sleeping!

Curse that tea.

Curse Captain Levi's wonderful brewing--

Sasha's foot hooked around something, jerking it to a stop. However, her body continued to plunge forward, and a second later cold and wet hit her full in the face.

For a moment she lay there with her head just clear of the mud. Her breath heaved in and out, water streamed down her face.

"You... I think... is someone's foot in m'... face?"

Sasha squealed. Within seconds she had scrambled to her feet, backing away from the crumpled figure like it was some sort of bomb.

"J-Jean? Wh-what are you, oh my word. Are... are you _alright_?"

She rushed back over to him, sinking into a kneeling position. Cold seeped over her knees. Wet, dirty hair fell over her eyes and the side of her face, enclosing it in a sort of shelter from the rain.

She poked the side of his face that wasn't pressed against the mud.

"Jean?"

No answer.

Her pulse skyrocketed, heat rushed over her face. She was suddenly very, very awake. Oh no, oh _no..._

" _Jean?!"_

He hissed, hands reaching up to slap over his ears. "Not s' loud!"

Sasha lifted her hand to her mouth, letting out a long breath. "I thought you were dead."

Jean opened one eye to glare at her. "I said 'What?' the firs' time y' asked, id't."

"What are you doing out here? It's raining!" She pushed him onto his back and grabbed his head in her hands, studying him for any major injuries despite his muttered "Stop it, Pota... to Girl." There didn't seem to be any; then again, considering the dim light...

Sasha suddenly stopped.

And sniffed.

...How had she not noticed it before?

"Jean... have you been... where did you get alcohol?"

"Oh." Jean's face suddenly pulled into a lopsided grin. It was a rather... adorable smile... "Um, Connie and Eren and I, y'know how Commander Pixis came today to talk to Erwin? Well, I think he left his flask and Eren dared me to try drinking from it, and of course I wasn't going to say no and so..."

Oh, no. What was he _thinking_? What were any of them thinking? If anyone found out... Not only drinking, but stealing from a commander, a _commander!_ He could get thrown out of the Survey Corps, and then--and then--

Sasha jerked her hands away and got up. "You," Sasha hissed, "have been an absolute...  _imbecile!_ "

Then she turned on her heel and walked away. Cold continued to stream down her body, making her shake. She didn't have time to stop and worry about Jean. It was his own fault and--

"You could... at leas' apologize for kickin' me in the nose, Potato Girl."

Sasha's jaw clenched so hard her teeth squeaked. Potato girl. That was all he thought of her. That was all anyone ever thought of her. An empty-headed, potato-stealing girl.

To hell if she cared.

"Sash...."

Jean. He'd done nothing but tease and ridicule her since the day they'd met.

"S-Sash... please..."

It was a small, broken cry, pulling at her, dragging her footsteps to a halt.

That wasn't true. Sasha lowered her eyes, her mind flickering back to that silly cooking competition they'd held back when they were cadets. How stupid it all seemed now. She'd poured so much into her dish and lost.... and yet... she remembered Jean's smile as he reached down and grabbed her hand, pulling her up. It had been a genuine smile, not gloating, but kind. Full of warmth.

He was trying to push himself up, one hand pressing against the slick ground, the other against his side.

With a sigh, Sasha slipped underneath one his arms, helping him stand. Her nose wrinkled and she pulled a face. Even in the pouring rain, his breath stank.

"How much did you drink?" Sasha asked.

"Not tha' much, I swear..." Jean said. "I mean... I wasn't plannin' on gettin' drunk it just--"

He jerked away, falling back to his knees. And then one hand was clutching at his stomach, his chest heaving, horrible sounds coming from his retching body. His fingers curled around his shirt, and a small whimper escaped his lips.

Sasha's heart melted, any traces of anger that were left dissolving into the rain. She knelt beside him once again and placed her hands on his shoulders, pressing her body against his in a sort of hug.

"Hey," she said, her voice soft. "Hey, it's okay. You're okay."

"Why..." Jean gasped. "Why does Pixis _drink_ this stuff?"

Sasha blew out a soft breath.

She could imagine why.

What would it be like to be one of those commanders? To be responsible for so many lives... so many deaths. True, the Garrison did have fewer casualties than the Survey Corps, but still... who knew what sort of smile lay underneath that think mustache?

"Come on," she said, the words barely a whisper. "It's going to be alright."

o

Sasha stumbled into one of the empty stalls, wheezing. Jean was little more than dead weight at this point. She could hear the drag of every footstep, his own shuddering breaths loud in her ears, louder even than the rain mercilessly pounding on the roof.

She let him drop into a pile of hay, then ran off. Seconds later, she was back with a lantern and two horse blankets. They were clean and soft (as was the whole stable, per Captain Levi's orders) and Sasha couldn't wait to bury her face into one and breathe in the warm scent of horses. She carefully hung the lantern on a hook and turned the shutter, letting the rays of light spill out onto the floor.

Then she turned and gasped.

"...wha'?" Jean asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sasha swallowed. Blood was tricking out of his nose, over his lip and down his chin. "Well, you remember how I kind of tripped over your face, um, well, I may have... given you... a bloody nose?"

Jean just looked at her with bright, bloodshot eyes. "Well that explains... a lot..." He reached up and touched his nose. "Ow."

"Jean, don't--touch... that," Sasha said, her words coming out stiff and stilted. She shoved the blanket into his hands. Jean just looked at it.

"What's this fo..."

"Here." Sasha took the blanket out of his hands and wrapped it around his shoulders. "Now," she said, "you won't get a cold... hopefully."

She bit her lip, fighting against the embarrassment rising up in her chest, and lifted up her hand to press against his forehead. It was a little warm, but thankfully not too burning.

That done, her hand reached into her pocket, feeling around until her fingers touched smooth cloth. She pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to Jean, who pressed it under his nose.

"You carry one of these around?" he asked, a small smirk passing over his face. "Typical."

Sasha frowned and let out a huff. "It's for times like these."

"You get bloody noses?"

"Well... no, but--i-it's useful, okay?" Sasha pulled the blanket closer around her shoulders.

Truth be told, she often felt like a soggy blanket of emotion...whether that emotion be anger, sadness, joy, fear. No matter how hard she tried, it still managed to leak out.

Sasha laid her head on her arms and gave a sidelong glance to Jean, who was scowling and muttering to himself as he wiped under his nose. Her eyelids drooped. Her body felt like it was sinking into the ground.

There were times she wished she could be that mask of control that was Mikasa. Unbreakable. Nothing could stop her, nothing could faze her. What was that word they used....? Bulletproof.

Why couldn't she be more like that?

"Y'know... I still can't believe I actually did it," Jean said, staring at the bloody handkerchief in his hands.

"Huh?"

"Joined the damned Survey Corps. MPs was all I ever wanted. It was all I ever dreamed of. Never wanted to be some... hero. Some dead hero that people didn't even care about. Yeah, I thought it was idiotic too. Sendin' people out to just to die.

"But then... Trost happ'ned... 'n Marco died. An'... and everything changed. I mean... Not just me. Eren's a titan, Annie's a murderer. N'thing makes sense anymore."

She remembered. She remembered seeing a shift in Jean during the battle of Trost. Marco had... she hated that past tense... Marco had been liked by most, but now that she thought back to the days before Trost, she realized that him and Jean had had an especially close bond.

All this time she had only thought of how the battle for Trost had affected her. She had never stopped to think how it affected everyone else. So many people's lives were cha--

"So why'd you c'm here?"

"Huh?" Sasha jerked her head up.

"Why'd you join the Survey Corps? 'M mean, hell, why'd you join the army at all? You could have stayed in your village, done s'm huntin' and... stuff."

"I guess... I wanted to become respectable," Sasha said, her voice soft. One of the horses stuck his nose over the half wall to blink at them, and Sasha rose. Her hands played over his dark muzzle. "When Wall Rose got destroyed, many of the people moved into my village. Many of them made fun of me for my accent, how I acted. They said I needed to become 'respectable.' And so, I came here. To become respectable."

She swallowed hard. What was she saying? Why was she telling him this? He probably wouldn't even remember it in the morning and yet...

It felt... nice. It felt like, even though she was under a roof now, her soul was out in that rain, the gentle, warm droplets spilling over it, cleansing it.

She plopped back down next to Jean, scrubbing a hand over her tangled hair. "But I don't think I succeeded. Ymir says I talk too polite, other people say I eat too much, which I suppose I do, but, you have to understand the food here is very good and--"

"Sasha."

Sasha stopped talking. And blinked. When was the last time she had heard that come from Jean's mouth? Her eyes shifted to his face. The corner of Jean's mouth had curled into a smile.

"Sash, you're really pretty, y'know that?" His smile grew wider, warmer. " 'M mean, for a p'tato girl."

His hand reached up and gently smoothed back her hair.

For a full moment Sasha didn't move. Her eyes opened wide, her heartbeat stuttered. Then she squealed.

"Ow...?"

Sasha blinked. Jean was sprawled on his back in front of her, his face a grimace.

"Did... Annie teach you that one...?" Jean wheezed.

It took a second for the pieces to come together.

"Oh--oh my goodness, Jean, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, you---you scared me," Sasha said, her words coming out all in a rush.

"That's the last time I try and compliment you," Jean muttered, staring up at the roof.

Sasha looked down at her hands, feeling her toes curl up inside her boots. "I... I didn't mind it," she whispered, half to herself.

Jean grunted in response. He turned over, and began pushing himself up, then fell back, his breathing strained, his face ashen. "Hurts..." he mumbled, curling up. He looked almost like a child, not that serious, brooding Jean she had come to know, or that hotheaded, obnoxious Jean of the past.

Sasha felt her shoulders drop. She scooted over to him, taking the blanket from her shoulders.

"Here." She began smoothing his damp hair with the blanket. Jean closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh.

"Oh so, y' get to touch my hair, but I don't get to touch yours?" He let out a snort that sounded remarkably like a horse. "Though it's... kinda nice. I mean... 'm sorry, Sash. Sorry for being sorta an idi't around you, I... feel like I've been an idi't a lot lately... especially when I... " His  voice cracked. "I let them die. I was trying to save everyone but I couldn't and I couldn't be a good leader and--"

"Tomorrow's another day, Jean," Sasha said, her fingers stroking over his soft hair. "Tomorrow's a new day."

She kept stroking his hair until he stopped shaking. The rain drummed on and horses snorted softly in their sleep. At any other time, the sounds might have made her sleepy, but right now she was anything but that.

New information was turning over and over in her mind, refusing to settle, demanding she take a good long look at it.

Jean was a bit of an enigma, she decided. Rather brusque, brutally honest, and yet with a softer side that just needed a bit of prodding to come out. A leader. Willing to give his all for things worth fighting for, and so aware of the unimaginable worth of a human life.

She was glad to be in the Survey Corps, fighting alongside him.

Even though he called her Potato Girl sometimes.

o

Everything felt like sludge. It felt like everything inside him had turned to muck. And he was cold and his nose throbbed and it felt like someone had taken a pickaxe, the ones they used for mining stone, to his skull.

Urgh.

Jean blinked open an eye. White hot sunlight hit him in the face and pain shot through his brain.

"Jean, c'mon, wake up already!" Connie shouted from across the cabin.

Another _wham_ of pain. Jean slapped his hands over his ears. "I'm up!"

It wasn't entirely true. All he wanted right now was to roll over and fall back into oblivion.

But there would be hell to pay if he did that, and so Jean swung his legs over the bed and stood up. Black spots rushed into his vision, followed by a wave of dizziness. He blinked hard, one hand grabbing the bedpost, the other grabbing his forehead.

_Ughh..._

"Hey," Connie said, walking up to Jean with a large grin on his face. "You missed Bertolt's weird sleeping position. He had his foot just about touching his head, like some graceful dancer." He snorted. "I guess that means there'll be more rain tonight."

Jean just grunted, grinding the heel of his palm into his forehead.

"Anyway, where'd you go last night?"

"Huh?"

"You just kinda wandered off."

Jean just stared at him. His mind flicked back to the night before. He searched with his mind's eye for something specific, but everything just blurred into an undistinguished mess. Sludge.

"Guess I just... checked on the horses, then came back," Jean muttered.

After pulling on his uniform, Jean stepped outside the cabin and began heading towards the mess hall. The air was cool and the ground littered with puddles. Jean sniffed, then sneezed. He remembered heading out into the rain... and then what?

Was he slowly losing his memory? Was he going to end up like his grandmother had, not even knowing who her children were? Was he _dying?_ Was--

" _Oof!_ "

Jean looked down to see Sasha sitting in the dust, her eyes and her mouth open wide. A faint hint of a blush dusted her cheeks.

Jean raised an eyebrow and reached down his hand. "What's up with you, Potato Girl?"

Sasha's blush grew darker. "N-nothing."

Wait. Wait a second. It was coming back. It was coming together. He and Connie and Eren... oh no. Oh, this wasn't happening.

"Oh..." Jean felt his own face warm. "I was drunk last night, wasn't I?"

After a second of trying to hold it in, Sasha erupted into a fit of giggles, her blush growing fiercer by the second. "It--it wasn't that bad," she gasped between her giggling. "You... called me pretty."

It felt like his face had just erupted into flame.

"EREN, I'M GOING TO KI--"


End file.
